Legacy might be the buzzword of 2012, but the glittering stadiums and memories
given to London by next year’s Games will struggle to compete with Rohullah
Nikpai’s bequest to Afghanistan in 2008.

When he humbled the world taekwondo champion, Juan Antonio Ramos, in Beijing to take the bronze medal in the 58kg category, he became more than just a sportsman: instead, he emerged as a symbol of hope for a nation scarred by conflict.

“Before the Olympics, we went to many countries and the other athletes asked where I was from,” Nikpai said, as he reflected on his achievement in China in a western suburb of his home city of Kabul. “I said Afghanistan and they were confused. Now when they ask, they know Afghanistan. They know it from sport, not from war.”

If Nikpai could not realise, at the time, just what his achievement meant to those watching at home, he quickly realised when his plane touched down in Kabul.

Thousands met him at the city’s Olympic Stadium and he was quickly established as the closest thing the country had to a bona fide sporting celebrity. President Hamid Karzai gave him a house; a consortium of businessmen gave him a car and the head of a communications company wrote him a cheque for $10,000 (£6,100)

– small change for sport’s biggest names but 20 times the average annual salary in Afghanistan.

That three years later he has yet to be crushed, or diverted, by the weight of expectation is testimony

to the 24 year-old’s focus.

Nikpai remains one of Afghanistan’s few genuine Olympic medal contenders. While the country hopes to send a larger team to London than it did to Beijing, many of its athletes are outsiders who will rely on invitation places and charity to make the trip. That means expectation rests heavier than ever on Nikpai. And after three years in which his country has lurched from crisis to crisis as the death toll mounts, his countrymen need good news more than ever.

“God willing, my ambition is to go to the Olympics again and win another medal,” he said.

Taekwondo is one of Afghanistan’s most popular sports, and the country now has around 500 clubs, but like all of the nation’s athletes, Nikpai struggles with facilities and equipment. “We cannot compare the facilities here with elsewhere. We have a good coach, but we don’t have facilities or the guards and pads needed,” he explained.

He practises within sight of the country’s Olympic stadium, where the Taliban once held executions, and must travel abroad for more intensive coaching.

Shy and wary of the media, he is reluctant to talk of his family, or his childhood as a refugee in Iran, but it is clear times were difficult.

He took up the sport at the age of 10 when he followed his brother to practice. As a proud Afghan, he points out that his coach was a compatriot, resisting any credit Iran may claim for his success. “It was very difficult to practise in poverty, but my family persuaded me to continue,” he said.

Money was no longer an issue after his Beijing triumph. “My family and all the people were crying from happiness when I won the bronze.” he recalled. “Sometimes when people want photographs and autographs when you have to go somewhere it is difficult. But God gave me this as a prize, so I love it.”

He is courted by big business and politicians alike, his face adorning billboards to advertise mobile phone networks, encourage young people to vote and raise awareness of a campaign against tuberculosis.

Success has brought its stresses but there is defiance in his voice as he contemplates the pressure. “It is certain that when you are successful, everyone wants to be close to you,” he said. “It is good, but difficult.”

That may be true, but if anyone can cope with those expectations, it is Rohullah Nikpai.